


Hunting Justice

by Anonymous



Series: Kinktober 2019 [23]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Worship, Credence is your typical femme fatale with a twist, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Explicit Sexual Content, Film Noir, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Infidelity, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Percy Graves is 100 percent flavored with Ray from True Detective, Scars, Serenity (2019) inspired, Size Difference, but like Shaw is an asshole so like its you know justified
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 04:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21155414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: the last person He ever thought he would see, climbing aboard his boat at what most folks call the witching hour, is the only person he's never been able to really forget.Credence... oh, what has the world done to him?Percy Graves gets a very lucrative offer to give fishing lessons to Henry Shaw, too good to be true, and he's got to wrestle with his conscience to decide to turn it down, or take the easy money.The thing is, nothing is ever easy, especially when it's his ex offering.





	Hunting Justice

**Author's Note:**

> once again I have to blame this one on Fred, because i realize my lack of using other colin's as Graves about only once a week if im not reminded. so this is our gruff fisherman graves, retired from being a cop, mainly out of guilt. he and credence were a 'thing" when cre was 'barely' just legal, and probably even before that technical birthday. however its only implied, never outright shown, so you can make your own conclusions. no one is a hero in this story, but there is 1 clear cut villain. 
> 
> this is 100% inspired by Serenity [2019] the film noir fanfic of Interstellar's Brand x Cooper....  
I mean, the second film ive seen miss hathaway and mister matty m in. so yeah. enjoy!

He’s not expecting company, he never is. Percy isn’t in charge of taking appointments and holding tourists hands. 

That's for his damn office to worry about. So when he catches the sound of footsteps on the nearby dock, the click clack of distinctly lighter shoes than any of Percy’s fellow fishermen, who wear boots almost exclusively, he knows something is up. The boat dips, and someone knocks on his cabin door. Percy instinctively feels for the gun in his desk side drawer. 

He doesn’t pull it out, not yet. “Who’s there?” He calls, going for intimidating, annoyed, and gruff. “A customer.” 

The answering voice is soft, but that doesn’t put Percy at ease. 

He pulls the gun out, and holds it to his side, walking over to the door to glance through the round window.

There’s a tall slender figure in a hat, wearing a coat, failing to look anything but suspicious. 

“What do you want?” He tries again. “To make you an offer you can’t refuse.” Percy rolls his eyes. “Look, there’s a gun on the other side of this door, full of bullets with your name on ‘em, so give me a straight answer already.” 

The stranger reaches up, making Percy tense, only for a pale long fingered hand to pull the hat off, revealing a mess of dark waves, big doe eyes, a sharp pair of cheekbones, framing pink lips, and his stomach lurches. He knows them.

“Please, Mister Graves, I have no one else to turn to.” That fluttering of lashes might be faked by any other person, plenty of sad and lonely desperate women have tried, but none will ever succeed. Only this devastating creature can trick their way onto Percy’s boat. He opens the door, and Credence Shaw walks in, shoes clicking on his floors. 

“Don’t call me that. Why did you come here, anyway?” He hears his voice growing raspy, as if he hasn’t spoken in days, as Credence holds his hat in front of himself like a life jacket, beginning to pace around the cabin. Barefoot or in heels, this man still towers over Percy, making him feel secondary, like the background of a magnificent painting. He hates it.

“I need you to listen to me…” 

But all Percy can see is the dim lights from his boat reflecting off the gaudy thing on Credence’s ring finger.

“Don’t tell me you have money troubles.” He barely holds back a laugh, which makes the younger man grow paler. 

“Quite the opposite. I’m here to make you an offer. Name your price.” Credence hardly sounds confident, but he looks determined, despite his nervous energy. Percy licks his lips, moving away from him to put the gun away, returning to his seat, slouching down. He’s not  _ really _ annoyed by the sight of his former lover, though he is rather wishing Credence would get to the point already. “Well, I think I’d like a million dollars. A cruise to the Caribbean, and oh, say, your husband's head on a platter? C’mon. What the fuck is with you? Sneaking onto my boat at one in the morning? Credence, your life can’t be so boring you’re going around visiting old flames.” Percy gets the surprise of his life when Credence stops pacing, walking right up to him, stepping between his lazily spread legs, only to reach for his coat ties, and undo it. His eyes widen, because Credence is  _ naked _ underneath it. At first, his lonely sex addled brain appreciates it, then Percy notices the marks. “What-”

“Forget a million. How about a hundred and fifty million? You can have everything you ever wanted. Never work again.”

Credence says, but Percy’s head is a mile away, eyes glazing up and down the man’s body, taking in the purplish bruise over his hip, the hand shaped one on his left thigh, nipples far pinker than they should be. “What the fuck happened?”

Credence’s smile is wobbly, and he shrugs, letting the coat slip off his shoulders, black leather puddling on the ground, Percy watches, frozen, as he turns around. The younger man’s back is a technicolor spread of terror. 

Dozens of scars are criss crossing his skin, dipping as low as the first plush rise of his ass, morphing into further bruises. The anger that simmers beneath the surface of Percy’s outwardly projecting indifference makes his jaw hurt from clenching it. “Why, Mister Graves, isn’t it obvious? My husband takes pleasure in marking his territory.” Credence says. He moves, stunning Percy further by sitting right down on his lap, the thin layer of his swim trunks, because why wear normal clothing when one is on the water, all that separates him from so much naked flesh. His hands fist at his sides, resisting the urge to touch what’s so clearly marked as  _ not his _ . Credence shifts around, making Percy hiss out a breath through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here then? Asking for a different sort of beating? I won’t give it to you.”

Credence tilts his head, exposing his very bare neck. “You’ve already hurt me before, leaving me for ‘my own good,’ did you think I’d forgotten? I’m here to give you an obscene amount of money to free me from a loveless, abusive marriage.”

Percy blinks. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Both of Credence’s hands move to settle on his bare chest, thanks to his shirt being fully unbuttoned, he might as well not even have it on. He shivers, while feeling torn between flinching and pulling Credence close for a kiss. Damn his sentiment, these decade buried emotions. At first, he’d been considered a cradle robber, dating someone Credence freshly graduated from high school, he’d felt guilty too, all the usual things. Freshly divorced, nearing thirty, Percy considers it his low point in life, a crisis, but Credence has always been a lovely ghost, a puzzling, intelligent boy turned man, insisted they travel the world together, be married under the stars. 

He refused. 

Percy wasn’t about to let someone who wasn’t old enough to drink ruin his own life by being tied down so young. 

He suspects that Credence resents him for that. For never giving him what he really wants. Nevermind that he wants it too. 

There’s wrong, then there’s  _ wrong _ , then there’s this. Percy holds his breath, as Credence leans down so very near that he can taste his breath, sweet cherries, bitter rum, evidence of liquid courage consumed before coming aboard his boat.

“Fuck me.” Then Credence is kissing  _ him _ , bringing back a surge of memories long buried, as if just thinking about  _ them _ wasn’t bad enough, now Percy gets to relive every moment, the first kiss, first  _ time _ , careful instructions, him losing his patience, Credence writhing under him, begging for more. His hands finally move, going instinctively for the younger man’s waist, gripping firmly, making Credence shudder on top of him, breathing hard into his mouth, his tongue following, licking deeply into Percy’s. 

“You don’t mind the beard burn you’ll get from this?” He asks, trying to sound detached and mocking. 

As if Credence’s dearly beloved won’t notice it. He’s so fair skinned, the slightest touch left hickies on his throat, so Percy learned to be careful, way back when, doing his best to avoid trouble. Credence freely told all his friends about his handsome cop boyfriend, so Percy’s efforts were pointless. He’s only been retired five years, but god help him, his detective instincts are buzzing like a hornets nest. “I don’t mind it, not at all. Do with me as you will.” 

Percy all but growls into his mouth, shoving out of his chair, one arm around and under Credence to support him, the younger man weighs nothing compared to what he did. 

Maybe it’s the stress, maybe he really does have hollow bones, as Percy used to joke with him. 

Either way, it takes little effort for him to get Credence flat on his back on the bench bed Percy can hardly call comfortable, following right on top of him, shrugging out of his shirt, pushing his legs open, putting his other hand between those creamy thighs, ignoring the bruises as best he can. 

Percy jerks Credence’s cock until he’s on the brink of orgasm, letting go to watch the fire bloom in his dark eyes. 

“Don’t get me all worked up for nothing. Take off your pants and fuck me.” 

Percy can’t help another growl, a snide remark. “Maybe you’re used to it, but I sure don’t intend on raping you. That is one thing that this sure as hell  _ isn’t _ , understand me?” 

Credence’s eyes lock on him, and he remains silent, yet beautiful in his defiance, though Percy thinks that he can see a shadow of something flit across his face. Doubt and hope are so intertwined these days. 

Percy goes for the drawer below his bed, yanking violently until it snaps open, and he feels blindly for what he needs. Credence’s back arches off the bench from the first cool touch, but he still says nothing, merely reacts with the low moaning Percy remembers painfully well. He tries not to think for too long about how easily Credence opens up, three fingers curling in, mercilessly rubbing on his prostate, until Percy can see the full body flush overtaking the younger man’s stomach. He’s ready. “Last chance. I won’t be gentle if you don’t want me to.” Percy warns him, putting both hands on his hips, preparing to roll him onto his stomach, one palm still sticky wet with lube. 

Credence blinks. “No, wait, fuck me like this. So I can see your face.” Gentle it is, then. 

Percy can’t hurt him like this, he won’t. Guiding his cock in, aching with need, Percy hisses from pleasure. 

The heat and pressure is unparalleled, no amount of masturbating on the open ocean can compare to this. 

Credence’s arms wind around the back of his neck, pulling him down with clear intent, and Percy goes, because he’s a fool. Their mouths brush together again, just as he bottoms out, and his entire body seems to light up, nerve endings on fire. Credence moans against him, rocking up, trying to urge him to move faster. 

Percy does it, because after so long without this, he can’t hope to last. He really is only human, and deep down, Percy has  _ missed _ Credence more than he will ever put to words. Lifting one of those long pale legs to press into Percy’s hip, he keeps Credence flush to his body, urging him to grind up, to get off against his stomach, while kissing below his jaw, to his neck, careful to avoid biting down or sucking on his skin, feather-light touches. Even so, there’s a steady flush deepening on Credence’s body, wherever Percy’s mouth has been, thanks to the rough scratch of his facial hair. He tries not to feel too proud, well aware of the risk he’s taking by marking Credence up to send back to his piece of shit husband.

As his thrusts speed up, he can feel Credence clenching harder around him, rhythmically, encouraging him to finish first, or at least making it impossible to resist. Percy buries his face in in Credence’s chest, and muffles his triumphant groan into his skin, panting through his orgasm, hips stilling, flush to the man’s ass.

“It’s alright.” Percy hears, lips brushing against his earlobe. “I know, yeah.” He pulls back, sitting on his heels, and only lets himself look for a moment at Credence, heaving chest, all trembling limbs and wobbly kiss red lips.

Percy doesn’t even ask, he just bows his head, throwing the man’s legs over his shoulders, swallowing down Credence’s dick, letting himself gag and ignoring it, sucking hard, pressing a hand under the curve of his ass, delving two fingers in. Credence is wet and warm, leaking Percy’s semen, aiding his touches, the determination to make him come all that fills his mind now. Percy’s eyes flutter closed, he can only smell  _ them _ , as one of Credence’s hands thrusts into his unkempt, ocean washed hair, he feels the tell. Credence’s thighs tense around him, all but crushing his head, then bitterness floods his mouth, and Percy gulps it down. Better than a lungful of salt water, always, Credence cries out, his entire body jolting, back arching off the bed, held firm by Percy’s weight, the bulk of his form nearly twice the younger man’s. 

After Credence is done shivering through his comedown, Percy lets his softening cock go, nosing lower, mouth slotting over the twitching flesh of his hole. He tastes himself and that familiar cheap fruit flavored lube. It’s what  _ they _ use.

Credence squirms from over stimulation, but says nothing. Not a single word of protest. Percy’s chest aches. 

How long has it been since someone worshiped him like this? Never? Did his husband do this at the start? 

It couldn’t have always been bad. Credence knows what he likes. Percy straightens up, feeling a twinge of pain in his lower back, wiping his mouth off on his palm, rubbing any traces of lube or come into his swim shorts, before getting rid of them completely, throwing them god knows where. He sits up on the bench, letting Credence follow him, stretching out, resting his head on Percy’s thigh. “Thank you.” Credence murmurs. Percy’s hand pets through his sweat damp hair.

“Of course.” Eventually reality sets in, the lateness of the hour, and Credence sits up a little, mostly leaning into Percy still. “I want you to take him out on this boat, as far out as you can. Show him how to fish like he wants... then, when his back is turned and he’s vulnerable, kill him. Let him drown." Credence’s voice is soft, low, deadly even, as Percy looks over at him, he’s nearly knocked back from the change in the younger man’s face. Credence's eyes have gone cold, all the light in what were just moments ago, tender, desperately the frantic and adoring brown pools have faded. Gone. 

If Percy didn’t know better, he’d almost think he’s holding a different person. His arm feels numb around Credence’s waist. "And will that bring you peace?" Credence nods. "Justice. A massive paycheck for you, then freedom."

Percy swallows thickly, not afraid for himself, but for this fragile and resilient man beside him. “I will do it. For you."

Credence blinks, eyes gentle again. “You always protect me. You’re my knight, Percival.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> day 23: ** Scars |** <strike> Master/Slave | Shibari |</strike> ** Size Difference **


End file.
